Can I Say Something?
by jxackles
Summary: Five years apart only makes the heart grow fonder. One-Shot. Deanmon/Demon!Dean/DeanxOC


_**Just a quick one-shot because I felt like writing. :) Hope you enjoy xo**_

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><p>You knew something was wrong. You knew as soon as you saw the familiar number flash across your screen. It had been years since either of them called you. The younger brother, your best friend, kept in contact with you through texts. He would send you a text every few months checking up on you, keeping you up to date on what was going on in their lives. You were even happy to hear about his older brother sometimes. The older brother, well you hadn't spoken to him at all. When you answered the phone, you could hear your best friend's shaky voice on the other end. <em>He's gone.<em> Your heart stopped. _Metatron, he stabbed him. I didn't make it in time._ You felt the lump growing in your throat. _I'm gonna make a deal._ You shook your head as if he could see you. "Don't do this, Sam." You could hear him sigh heavily. You knew that if the roles were reversed, his older brother would be contemplating the same thing. Hell, you know that you would make a deal for them too. _He would do it for me._ He didn't give you time to respond before he hung up. You threw the phone on the table, covering your face with your hands as you felt the tears begin to slowly escape your eyes.

Sam didn't ask you to come, he was actually quite surprised to see you when he opened the door of the bunker. Your eyes immediately landing on the black sling around his shoulder. He swallowed the lump in his throat stepping to the side to let you in. You muster up a smile as you pass him. A familiar scent filling your nostrils as you walk further into the bunker. Your hands grip onto the metal railing as you look around. A smile creeps onto your lips, memories flooding your mind. You hadn't realized how much you had really missed this place. A smile tugged on Sam's own lips as he watched you taking everything in. Sam knew you were going to have questions. He should have known that you would show up once he told you that his brother was no longer dead, but missing. He knew you would never admit it, but you still loved Dean.

He didn't ask you to help him find Dean, but you knew that he could use your help. It wouldn't be easy finding someone who didn't want to be found. It really wouldn't be easy finding a _demon_ who didn't want to be found.

With a little help from an unlikely source, you were able to track down your demon. Sam managed to capture him, while you used your contacts at the hospital to gather blood for the cure. It turns out that being a med school dropout had its advantages. Sam had been walking in and out of the room since he began the process. Each time he left looking a little more worried.

You squeezed your eyes tightly listening to the interaction just a few steps away from you. You bit down on your lip. The growls coming from inside were from another world. Then again, at the moment, so was he. Your back slid down the wall, keeping your head between your knees as you listened to him scream. He taunted his younger brother saying anything to get under his skin. "This is me yanking your lame ass out of the fire... You're welcome." Sam stormed out of the room. The sudden jolt of the door closing made you jump. His hand wound tightly in his dark locks as he paced. He was afraid this wasn't going to work, but he was more afraid of what had to be done if it didn't. His pale green eyes widened seeing you standing by the door. "Don't go in there." He pleaded with you. He didn't want his brother to say something that would break you. Sam knew the truth. He knew that his brother loved you, he always had. When you left, it broke Dean. You were just another person in his life he had managed to hurt.

"I'll be fine, Sammy…" You placed a soft kiss against Sam's cheek, squeezing his hand gently.

His head hung low. He was bound to the wooden chair in the center of the room, white symbols creating a trap beneath him. He tried to catch his breath, gasping every so often. This treatment was having a greater affect on him than you had initially thought. He didn't seem to notice your presence or he was in too much pain to care. Your thumb grazed the skin of his stubbled cheek, lifting his face so you could look directly at him. No trace of those emeralds you loved as pure black occupied the space now. You swallow the lump building in your throat trying to keep your composure. Slowly, his facial features soften, his eyes close and those emeralds you love stare back at you. He leans into your touch, reveling in the moment. He thinks he's dreaming. There is no way you would be here. Sam wouldn't be that stupid.

You press your lips against his cold, clammy forehead. The sigh of content that he releases comes out a little louder than he meant for it to. Once you lean your forehead against his, he doesn't waste a moment. His lips brush against yours lightly, that familiar spark igniting in both of you. "It'll be over soon, I promise..." You whisper as you pull away from him. His gaze follows you, slowly beginning to harden with each step you take. You ignored the hateful words he spat at you as you walked away. It didn't help, knowing this was all Dean made it sting with each stab he made. This wasn't some random demon in a meat suit, this was Dean. But you knew somewhere deep inside, your Dean was there. Your features remain stoic as you stand at the doorway, arms crossed over your chest listening to him. He wanted a reaction, he wanted you to storm off and he wanted to hurt you. But you weren't going to give him the satisfaction. "Are you done yet?" He grimaced, his lip twitching slightly. "I'll let Sam know it's time for the next dose."

Castiel gave you a tight smile as he walked past you. You had to remember to thank him later. If he hadn't shown up, well you don't want to think about what you would have had to do. You took a deep breath before walking into his room, leaning against the wooden doorframe. His back was turned to you, staring down at something in his hands. He jumped when he turned around, dropping whatever it was he had been holding. He still wasn't sure if he had imagined seeing you. But there you were. He swallowed the lump in his throat. Everything he said coming back to him. Your gaze landed on the object he had been holding as it remained on the floor, a picture. But you couldn't make out what it was a picture of. He quickly picked it up and left it upside down on the dresser. "I'm glad you're okay…"

"Yeah, whatever that is." A small smile tugs on your lips. "Listen, I'm sorry… for everything I said back there." You shake your head, the burning sensation building in your eyes. You told yourself you weren't going to cry. You told yourself that you couldn't cry. "I thought I was going insane. Funny how that's what I imagine insanity to be."

You were only a few steps away from him now. The familiar longing to wrap your arms around him building inside of you. But you reminded yourself that it was no longer your job to comfort him. He glances at the picture on his dresser, swallowing the lump in his throat. Following his gaze, you pick the photo up, turning it over in your hands. It was a picture of the two of you. He stood behind you, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist as he pressed his lips to your cheek. Your eyes closed, a bright smile spread across your lips as he kissed you. You wore one of his flannels, which just so happened to be the same one you were wearing at the moment.

He brushes your bangs out of your face, smiling when your eyes finally meet his. You had forgotten the effect he had you. He glances down at your lips briefly before your eyes meet his emeralds again. His rough, calloused hand wraps around the back of your neck and his lips finally meeting yours. You move in sync. That familiar spark reigniting inside both of you. It feels like no time has passed since the last time you were together.

Both of you breath ruggedly as you part. "I'm sorry. For everything…" he whispers resting his forehead against yours.

"It doesn't matter."

"You're wrong. It does matter. I hurt you and I've paid for it everyday for the past five years." You smile up at him before pressing a quick, reassuring kiss to his lips.

"Took you becoming demon to finally go after her?" Sam stood in the doorway. A white paper bag covered in grease in one hand and an eight pack gripped between two fingers sticking out of the black sling. He pushed his hair out of his face with his good hand before offering you both a tired smile. The exhaustion was finally catching up to him. The past few weeks had been anything but uneventful.

"Go get some sleep, Sammy," you said ushering him out the room. "I promise to keep an eye on him for you." Even though he knows the treatment worked, you can tell Sam is still wary of his brother. He knows that things still aren't completely back to normal. Instead of fighting you, he laughs and pulls you into a hug that only Sam Winchester can give. You push him down the hallway, only turning your back to walk inside when you hear his door click shut. Another smile tugs on your lips when you walk into Dean's room. His lips are parted slightly, soft snores slipping past them as he grips onto the pillow beneath his head. The past few weeks had not only worn out Sam, but they had taken a toll on the older Winchester too. Being a Knight of Hell wasn't the easiest job in the world. You run your fingers lightly through his grown out hair. He begins to stir, eyes opening as he tiredly looks up at you. A ghost of a smile on his lips. "Go back to sleep. You need all the rest you can get."

He yawns, stretching his arm out to pull you onto the bed next to him. He licks his lips, biting down on the inside of his cheek. He hasn't had you this close to him in years, he had almost forgotten how right it felt to hold you in his arms. "Can I say something?" His voice is low in your ear. You nod as you snuggle further into him. "I love you."


End file.
